


Black Mass

by Talentless Blob (Freshapplepi)



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Obscurial Credence Barebone
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2017-07-11
Packaged: 2018-09-09 04:48:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8876623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Freshapplepi/pseuds/Talentless%20Blob
Summary: Credence wakes up in an alley, after his showdown with the Magical Congress and Grindelwald. He realizes that he can't stay in New York with so many thinking he died. His obscurus is still a part of him so he boards a boat to Britain where he plans to learn magic while controlling the darkness within him.AN: Credence will eventually run into Newt Scamander, Gellert Grindelwald, and Albus Dumbledore. There are also plans for him to, at some point, end up at Hogwarts (Although whether he stays or not isn't definitive).





	1. I'm falling apart

**Author's Note:**

> The Harry Potter universe and all of its characters belong to J. K. Rowling. I own nothing except the plot line continuing on from the end of the Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them movie and will not profit off of this.
> 
> Sorry, right now I'm just churning out chapters because I got really excited about this. I have an idea for a much longer plot and I'm hoping I have the patience to draw it out. As I go on, I'll probably edit the chapters (combining them or elaborating on certain events or changing the sentence structures or adding thoughts). 
> 
> Comments are greatly appreciated, please and thank you. Readers (and of course my need to see Credence alive and happy) are what fuel me.

"You can control it, Credence." Graves said in sudden realization.

 _You thought he was your friend... you thought he was different_ , a voice in his mind reminded him.

"But I don't think I want to, Mr. Graves," Credence whispered finally, looking up at the man he had trusted.

 _He lied to you_ , the voice continued. _He doesn't care for you. No one cares for you._

The raw emotions swelled up in him and suddenly it became too much for him to handle. It all just exploded at once. The anger. The hurt. The betrayal. He erupted violently into a shadowy black mass and surged forward.

What came next was a blur.

A nice man approaching him slowly, speaking in kind tones... the nice man screaming as Graves hurt him... the utter fear and despair filling him up again as he hears the screams and becomes a bodiless swarm of black... the wizards and witches finding him...

When the lights had hit him, it felt like he was burning up from the inside out and all he wanted to do was scream. Credence wanted to go far away, to a distant place where people were kind and nice men weren't tortured and nothing hurt. _Oh god it hurt so much._ And then suddenly- there was nothing.

No one seemed to notice a single black wisp escape the barrage of spells.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, right now I'm just churning out chapters because I got really excited about this. I know they aren't the highest quality but stick with me. I have an idea for a much longer plot and I'm hoping I have the patience to draw it out. As I go on, I'll probably edit the chapters (combining them or elaborating on certain events or changing the sentence structures or adding thoughts). 
> 
> Comments are greatly appreciated, please and thank you. Readers (and of course my need to see Credence alive and happy) are what fuel me.


	2. Alive?

Credence Barebone slowly lifted a tentative hand to his face and felt the smooth warm skin underneath.

_He was alive._

That one realization surprised him. As he pondered this, Credence also became suddenly aware of the cold hard ground beneath him. _Why was he lying on the ground?_ He stood up and suddenly the world turned sideways. His vision started to blur and blacken at the edges. Credence's stomach clenched and he doubled over just in time with his hands wrapped around his midsection, throwing up stomach acid. His body kept heaving the foul stuff even though his stomach was empty, leaving a burning trail through his throat. Credence slowly wiped his mouth and straightened up again, taking in his surroundings.

The first rays of the morning sun were beginning to peek over the New York skyline and not a single soul was up or about yet. Faded red brick walls faced him on either side. The only source of light came from the mouth of the alley, just barely illuminating the narrow walkway.

Now that his vision had cleared up, Credence took notice of the few hastily attached posters clinging to the walls advertising the New Salem Philanthropic Society. Credence found it curious that the pavement looked like it was recently rained on yet not a part of him was wet. He didn't linger on this thought though, not when he remembered slivers of last nights events. His own people he realized, fellow wizards and witches, had seen the dark ugly thing growing inside of him and wanted it dead. _Wanted him dead._ Except somehow, for some unknown reason, he was still alive and kicking. Well, now that Credence thought about it, he was barely able to stand and probably closer to half-dead, but that was besides the point.

Credence stumbled in a mess of limbs out of the dark alley and onto the street. A suddenly twinge of pure unadulterated fear brought his attention back to his own body. _Oh no_. _It was still inside him_. The thing, _the obscurus,_ Credence's mind supplied, was very much alive and according to the man in the blue coat, killing him. _And they hadn't cured him_ , he thought with a feeling of disappointment. Not only was he supposed to be dead, but the dark thing inside of him meant they would come back. _They wouldn't stop until he and the obscurus were dead._ Credence began to panic and his thoughts accelerated to a mile a minute. _What could he do... where could he go... was any place safe for him?_ Credence could feel the thing inside himself now. The black mass inside was probably consuming him little by little with every passing second. That was a problem to worry about later though, right now he needed to do something. _Hide? Leave? Leave. But where to? Was there any place in New York that was safe for him? What about America?_

 _No_ , Credence decided. He couldn't stay in the Magical Congress's territory. He would leave the states and go somewhere new. Credence took hold of that small scrap of self-preservation inside and held on tight. Straightening up, he made his way past the empty storefronts until he arrived at the wreckage of his home.

The Second Salem Church lied in ruins before him, a heap of wood and splinters. Credence stepped inside the wreck tentatively. _He had done this._ The dead eyes of Mary Lou Barebone, whom he had called his adoptive mother, seemed to follow him around the room accusingly as he wandered. There wasn't much to be salvaged, not that he owned much anyway. The setting before him was unbearable so Credence hastily retreated.

The docks were nearby; he'd been there a few times before, watching the ships come and go. From the time he had regained consciousness to now, the streets had filled up with people and the docks had quickly become a bustling crowd. Credence subconsciously let himself be pushed through the throng of people until he reached the row of boats. New York wasn't safe for him anymore. His gut was telling him he needed to get out of America, and fast.

As he boarded a boat, Credence could have sworn he saw a flash of blue and a brown briefcase out of the corner of his eye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, right now I'm just churning out chapters because I got really excited about this. I know they aren't the highest quality but stick with me. I have an idea for a much longer plot and I'm hoping I have the patience to draw it out. As I go on, I'll probably edit the chapters (combining them or elaborating on certain events or changing the sentence structures or adding thoughts). 
> 
> Comments are greatly appreciated, please and thank you. Readers (and of course my need to see Credence alive and happy) are what fuel me.


	3. Departure

A well worn second-hand suit and a necklace from Graves he didn't dare touch were all Credence had to his name. The last of his money was spent securing a ride to London. Credence tried not to think about these details as he boarded, already stressed out. At any moment, the wizards and witches could find and kill him.

In a last minute barter with the captain of the ship, Credence had been able to bargain for passage to London. The sack of money hadn't been enough to purchase even the cheapest of tickets and so he begged the crew, offering to help around. Eventually they struck a deal: in exchange for passage, Credence would sleep in a lower level of the ship with the crew, cater to the first class passengers, and do some of the more tedious tasks required on the ship.

Now, a man had been called over to lead Credence to his cabin. He looked tall and buff, maybe in his late 30s or early 40s, and Credence subconsciously kept his head lowered, staying a good two feet away from him at all times.

“No luggage?” Answering that question seemed like the type that would lead to more questions, so in the end Credence stayed quiet.

"Well..." The man gave him a calculating glance before speaking up again. "The name's Matt. Matthew Terry but you can just call me Matt," the man in front of him spoke up, filling the silence.

No idea how to respond, Credence said nothing and began to trail behind the man named Matt. He'd never excelled at talking and he certainly wasn't about to start trying now.

Matt frowned, looking back, and continued, "You're an odd fella, huh kid. Well if we're going to be staying in the same room together, you might as well tell me your name."

"Credence," he offered quietly after a moment's hesitation. Matt gave him a funny look but kept walking.

"That's an unusual name, ain't it."

"I suppose." Credence responded, effectively cutting off any hope of a conversation. kept his chin down and eyes glued to the floor

"I get it. You don't wanna talk. That's okay."

"Just don't go startin' any trouble."

After swirling through to the lower levels of the ship, Matt and Credence finally reached their destination. "I've been with the captain for a while now so I get to bunk alone," Matt explained, leading Credence in.

The room was dimly lit and cold. There was a single bed, if you could call it that, shoved into the corner.

A pile of blankets were flung in Credence's direction, catching him by surprise.

"Here kid, the cap'n told me you would be fine in the floor."

Credence nodded shakily, avoiding eye contact with the man who looked like he could snap him like a toothpick. He took the blankets and walked hesitantly to another corner. The blankets weren't enough to keep him warm but they would at least keep him from freezing. Credence spread the blankets out on the floor and waited for further instruction. He didn't have to wait long.

"Uh, what else. Let's see... I've got a few smaller tasks for you. I'll find you around lunchtime and we can grab something to eat. And don't be late for dinner tonight, or you'll go hungry."

Credence was given a list of small tasks around the ship that someone as inexperienced as him would be able to do. Good work ethic drilled into his head by his mother, Credence vigorously scrubbed each toilet so that it was practically gleaming at the end. Credence worked hard throughout the day and when Matt came back to collect him for dinner, he whistled appreciatively at the work.

All in all, things seemed to be working out for Credence, or so he thought.

While grabbing their meal, Matt pointed out a man named Sloan to him. "You're better off avoiding him," he warned and Credence nodded in silent acknowledgement, taking note of the burly man who had just entered. He was tan with short dirty blonde hair and a permanent scowl on his face.

"You remember how to get back to the room, right?" Matt asked, taking one last bite of his meal. Credence nodded again. Matt grunted, pleased, and stood up. Credence, never one to eat much, decided to finish up and follow the man back to their room. He was hastily shoveling food into his mouth when he heard it.

"What did you just say to me!" A rising voice caught his attention. In the corner, Sloan was towering over a much smaller and younger looking boy.

"I didn't- I didn't mean it. Please Sloan, I didn't mean it," the boy cried out in fear, stumbling backwards, "I'm sorry-"

"You will be," Sloan started forward threateningly. In one quick movement, his fist flashed out and caught the boy by the jaw. Another fist aimed at his stomach made the boy cry out.

Credence frantically looked around for Matt before realizing he had left. He was on his own. Making a decision, Credence got up and made his way towards the pair. He pushed through the growing crowd of cheering men and threw himself between the two.

"Stop- stop hurting him!" Credence was ashamed to say his voice cracked. _But he had to do something... he had to stop this._

"You wanna take his place, boy?" Sloan stepped forward threateningly.

_Shit._

The boy, now behind him, scrambled away and straight the door.

Credence barely saw the fist flying towards him. Before he knew it, he was on the ground with a mixture of punches and kicks raining down on him.

He'd taken beatings before, but still... this hurt. Not, of course, like the burning of those spells that had hit him earlier but it still hurt. Credence did what he had learned to do in the streets of New York seemingly so long ago. He curled up into a fetal position and covered his head from the onslaught of blows.

He had spent his life poor, being bullied and looked down upon by people who were richer, smarter, more popular...and when had anyone ever stood up for him. Those thoughts sent a sudden twinge through his body. The darkness inside him reared its ugly head and began to worm its way to the surface. The fear and pain began to overcrowd his mind and Credence felt himself losing control.

_Oh god._

He was going to kill all these people. A memory of Chastity, his sister, flashed in his mind. He would become that awful black mist and... and hurl himself through the walls and... the ship would fill with water and sink and... Modesty. Modesty, whom he left in New York with no family... no one to look after her... no home. He had orphaned and abandoned her. _No_ , he thought with absolution. _He wouldn't hurt these people._ Credence tried to slow his racing heartbeat and calm himself. And he just- pushed it down. He gasped, breathing in the cold stale air, and squashed the darkness down as far as he could.

The bludgeoning of fists and kicks continued to rain down upon him. Something wet trickled down his face and past his lips. A particularly hard kick to the ribs forced the air from his lungs and he let out a barely audible whine. The pain was nearly overwhelming yet Credence did his best to remain focused.

_Don't let it out._

A kick aimed at his back.

 _Don't let it out_.

A savage punch to his abdomen followed by a crow of laughter. He could only remain curled up and hope desperately this would end soon.

_Don't let it out._

Then suddenly he heard a familiar voice.

"What the fuck, Sloan!"

Sloan whipped around to face Matt and puffed out his chest a bit. An awful sneer covered Sloan's face as he retorted, "Beat it, Terry. This ain't none of your business."

"Stop it, Sloan," Matt continued, stepping forward, "You know the captain will throw a fit if he finds you've been beatin' on the young ones again."

"Here to save your fag? How'd he even get aboard anyway," said Sloan, narrowing his beady black eyes at Matt, "What? He offer a few favors in exchange for sharing your room?"

Matt just stared at him silently and waited.

"Fine, here. You can have him." Sloan pulled Credence up by the collar and shoved him in Matt's direction. Credence only made it a few half steps before he stumbled and fell to the ground.

Sloan motioned to the rest of his friends and they pushed past Matt, leaving only the two of them there.

"Up you go... attaboy Credence." Matt grasped the boy's arms and hefted him up to his feet. "Careful...easy does it," Matt said in encouraging tones. He looped one of Credence's arms around his own neck and lead Credence from the room, supporting most of his weight.

"Steady now, let's get you back to our room."

___________________________

Newt sat awkwardly at one of the many round dining tables surrounded by other first-class passengers. One woman across the table kept batting her eyes and sending shy flirtatious smiles at him. An older lady, old and wrinkled, spoke up in a scratchy voice, complaining about how long it was taking for the food to arrive.

"Where's dinner? It was supposed to be served half an hour ago."

"I heard a fight broke out among the crew and they had to break it up," gossiped the woman sitting across the table.

"A fight you say?" A man dressed in a dark suit asked, "Just what kind of ruffians are running this ship!"

The old lady beside him spoke up angrily, "I did not pay good money for my ticket just so two boys could get into a scrap and delay my meal-"

"Oh hush now Margaret. It's not so bad."

Newt just smiled weakly at the people around him. This was going to be a long few days.

  
___________________________

Back in the cabin, Credence was thinking exactly the same thing. One day in and he'd already got in a fight.

"I'm really sorry, Mr. Terry." Credence apologized.

"What?" grunted Matt, sounding confused. He helped Credence to the bed, guiding him toward the edge. "Listen son, I wish you had the smarts to avoid that guy but it wasn't your fault."

"But I- I got in a fight Mr. Terry," Credence stuttered, "You told me not to go starting any trouble."

"A fight? That's what you call it?"

Credence raised his head and met Matt's gaze. "Yes?" he said in a confused tone.

"That didn't look like a fight to me. From what I saw, you didn't even land one hit on him."

"How'd you even find me, Mr. Terry?" questioned Credence, deciding to ignore that last comment. "I thought you left."

"Charlie came to get me as soon as he thought you were in trouble," Matt answered him. Seeing Credence's face, he elaborated. "The boy that Sloan was beating on?"

_Realization clicked in Credence's mind._

"Look son..." Matt trailed off, looking at the lanky boy in front of him, "Here, let me grab a wet cloth. Hold on for a second and we'll get you cleaned up." Matt disappeared from the room, shutting the door behind him.

Now that the other man had left and he was in the safety of his room, he began to let out choking sobs. _It seemed like no matter where he went, people always hated Credence. What had he done tto ever deserve this? Maybe Ma was right and it was God punishing him for being a witch, a devil worshipper._

Credence quickly turned the sobs into soft sniffles when Matt re-entered.  
Matt came back with a damp washcloth and held it out to him. Credence made no move for it so Matt sat down beside him and began to dab his face carefully.

"He got you really good, huh kid."

_Silence._

"And your nose. What? He smash it? I'm surprised it ain't broken with that much blood."

Credence tilted his head back slightly so Matt could wipe the blood off. _That's odd_. Credence couldn't remember ever being punched or kicked in the nose. Nevertheless, it seemed a few dried trails of blood had trickled down from his nose.

"How're your ribs?"

"Fine."

"Sure, kid."

Credence was still sniffling a bit by the time Matt was done so the older man began to rub gentle circles into his back. They didn't speak but Credence leaned slightly into his touch. He knew he shouldn't have, not after Graves, but it felt so good to be touched by another human. He knew he craved physical affection... Graves had known it too and used it against him. When Credence stopped sniffling finally, Matt let his hand fall.

"Thank you Mr. Terry."

"Matt," he reminded Credence, "It's Matt."

___________________________

The next couple of days passed with a blur. Credence tried his hardest to stay out of Sloan's way, focusing on the work given to him and as a result, no more trouble started.

On their fourth day at sea, the ship pulled into a large harbor in London. Credence would be sad to say goodbye to Matt; they had developed a close bond over the short trip and it was disappointing to have to leave so soon.

Credence stepped off the boat and took a deep breath of the fresh air. As soon as his feet hit solid land, he felt hope spread throughout his body. _He was in Britain._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, right now I'm just churning out chapters because I got really excited about this. I know they aren't the highest quality but stick with me. I have an idea for a much longer plot and I'm hoping I have the patience to draw it out. As I go on, I'll probably edit the chapters (combining them or elaborating on certain events or changing the sentence structures or adding thoughts). 
> 
> Comments are greatly appreciated, please and thank you. Readers (and of course my need to see Credence alive and happy) are what fuel me.


	4. Fate or Chance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Credence explores London, he comes across two strangers that catch his eye. Following them leads Credence to a sketchy pub named after a pot of some sort? A spilling cauldron? What he finds inside is even more unexpected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm already sorry for the large amounts of original characters I'm going to have to create for this story to work.

It was nearly midday yet the sky was overcast and the air was filled with a thick fog. He made his way from the docks and took in the new city. In the distance, Credence could hear the ringing sound of buoys and screeching seagulls. 

Cobblestone streets painted the ground and led him through an intricate maze of bustling life. He didn’t exactly have a place to go or any actual plan so he walked. He walked past people and past stores, past restaurants that made his stomach grumble and small homes that reminded him of the cramped church he grew up in. He walked until his legs ached and then a bit farther. 

While Credence imagined that of course people would act differently in a different country, a couple walking past caught his attention. They wore mismatched and outdated clothes, not necessarily unheard of but slightly suspicious... as if the two were trying to fit in and failing miserably. It seemed familiar, a reminder of how poorly the witches in New York were at blending in. He thought to himself,  _ This is what Ma would find suspicious. Maybe there's a chance they're witches. _

His mind was racing with the possibility of being found out…  _ but surely there was no way people here would have heard of what happened it New York _ . He watched the strangers pass and made the snap decision to follow them. Perhaps they would lead him to others of their kind and he could finally learn more about the thing inside him.

Credence trailed the couple, trying to stay as inconspicuous as he could by leaving a fair distance between them. He had to weave through people and turn so many corners that there would be no way to find his way back. Eventually he came upon what looked like a run down pub. An old wooden sign hung above the door and swung slightly in the wind. It looked like black pot with the words “The Leaky Cauldron” printed underneath. 

Realizing he had lost sight of his targets, Credence quickly rushed inside. Immediately he was hit with a pleasantly warm atmosphere. Behind the bar was a man cleaning a glass with a questionably clean rag. Wooden tables were set up along the walls and strewn in a grid like pattern across the room. A few people were scattered across the room in quiet chatter, sipping what seemed to be a type of alcohol that Credence didn't recognize. Upon further investigation though, he saw no sign of the couple he had been following.  _ Well so much for that. _ A gruff voice startled his thoughts.

“What can I do for you, young man?”

Credence’s head snapped towards the bartender, eyeing him warily. 

“Maybe a fire whiskey?” the bartender questioned.

“I'm sorry sir, a- no thank you?”

Credence’s confused look must have tipped the man off because he straightened up. “You must be looking for Diagon Alley, huh,” he realized, “I don't see many American wizards come in but they're usually here to shop in the alley.”

Credence gaped at the man and hurriedly walked up to the counter. “How- how did you know I was a witch?” he whispered, panicked. 

The bartender gave him a funny glance and corrected him. “Wizard. And of course you're a wizard. You wouldn't have been able to even see this place if you didn't have magic, much less come inside,” he explained, “Surely you Americans don't just let muggles walk into any building all willy nilly. They've got to be hidden, right?”

“Hidden… of course, yes.” Credence tried to sound sure of himself when he spoke. He wasn't sure how much longer he could hold off the questioning though so he abruptly changed the subject. “You mentioned an alley? How do I get to this alley?”

“Why it's just around the back… I’ll show you.” The bartender led him through the back door and into a small closed off space. There was nothing remarkable about this spot, Credence thought. Maybe the subtle smell of vomit and piss, and an old brick wall, but otherwise that was it. The bartender walked up to the wall and explained,“See, you tap these bricks…” He pulled out a wooden stick that made Credence nearly step back and tapped the bricks in a pattern. The final tap of what Credence supposed was a wand had the bricks curling away to reveal a doorway. Beyond was an old fashioned looking street lined with shops on either side and filled with a swarm of shoppers wearing colorful robes.

“It's quite a sight, isn't it?” The bartender suddenly spoke, watching Credence’s amazement. “Well I'll let you get to it then,” he said and went back inside.

Credence took a tentative step forward onto the cobblestone and stared in wonder at the bustling street before him. A lady wearing a tall pointy hat that would have had Ma screaming witches and devil worshippers jostled into him as she passed and he quickly moved forward into the mass. Trying his hardest not to look like this was all new to him, Credence walked past the different shops slowly. He eyed the stores that advertised bizarre things such as newt eyes and bat wings and odd looking brooms. Owls hooted at him from their perches when he passed them and cats meowed from the display windows. Farther down the street was a large white building labeled Gringotts.

Not really knowing where he was going, he took a turn down a smaller and quite darker street. For some reason, as soon as he stepped foot onto the stone, he felt a chill down his back. As he walked farther down the road, he began to think it might have been a mistake. Suddenly, a wrinkles hand shot out from the shadows and grabbed his arm. Credence jerked forward, terrified, but the grip held him tightly. Following the hand emerged a short figure wearing black hooded robes. The adrenaline was racing through him now, making his heart pound. The only thing he could see underneath the hood was a hooked nose and a purple wart sticking out.

“Would you like to buy a love potion, dear,” croaked the old woman, “For such a handsome young face, I'll even give you a deal. Two for one.” 

“No- no thank you,” Credence stammered. He heard the raspy breath of the stranger and desperately tried to wriggle out of the tight grip. “Please Ma’am,” he pleaded, “Let me go.”  He pulled away harder and she finally released him, sinking back into the shadows of the wall. 

As soon as he managed to wrench his arm from her grasp, Credence turned and ran. Without thinking, he sprinted into the first shop he could find and slipped in. Behind him, the door swung shut and a bell rang to announce his presence. 

Credence looked around at the messy piles of books threatening to topple over at any second surrounding him. It seemed he had run into a bookshop. An old man with wispy grey hair covering his head shuffled into view from behind the dusty bookcases. “Now what's a nice young lad like you,” he rasped, “Doing in Knockturn Alley?” 

Heart pounding again, Credence took a hesitant step towards the old man. “Knockturn?” he asked, confused, “I thought I was in Diagon Alley?” 

The old man let out a cackle that turned into coughing fit, making Credence wince. “Diagon Alley is way back there, lad. You must've taken a wrong turn.”

“...I must've taken a wrong turn, yes,” replied Credence and he thought back to the narrower road he had followed from the main crowded street. He shuffled his feet nervously before he spoke again. “I’m actually… uh… well, Sir… do you think you could help me?” 

His mind was racing with different lies and excuses but he decided to settle for the truth.

“I'm… new to this and I was wondering how I’d be able to get a wand.” 

“A wand, eh? You must be a mudblood then.” The man eyes him warily and continued, “Wands vary but they're about 12 galleons, give or take.” 

“Galleons?” 

_ Money _ , his brain supplied.  _ Dammit… of course.  _ He had been a fool to think he could get anywhere without money. 

“The thing is… Sir… I don't actually, uh, have any.”

“Tell you what… Help me in my shop and I'll pay you for your work, boy. I've got a spare room in the back you could use… and Merlin, it looks like your clothes need a wash.”

“Really? I- I mean thank you Sir!” Credence’s head snapped up and he rushed forward to shake the man’s hand excitedly. 

“Gill Jenkins,” the old man supplied. “And what do I call you?”

“Credence. Credence Barebone.”


End file.
